tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-301852462024-03-07T21:18:55.526-06:00mercurialmoodsshriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-63807420772654242922011-02-25T14:07:00.000-06:002011-02-25T14:07:29.419-06:00Obituary: to a man remembered in death more than in life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Dear Uncle Pai,<br />
I am one among the myriad (no more) children indebted to you for giving me the most enriching gift I have yet received-- the love of the printed word. But I am ashamed to confess that I had almost forgotten your existence. What greater tribute can I perhaps give you as an artiste, for you verily were one, than to realize today that your creations were so powerful that they subsumed you, their very creator, and relegated you to the shadows.<br />
<br />
You were also a primary reason for a bond that I developed with my father when he inculcated in myself his love for the printed word. To a seven year old kid a comic book is a puzzling thing; he doesn't know whether to read zig-zag horizontally or vertically, or whether a character is speaking or thinking. And yet once these obstacles are overcome, for a mind at that age like a sponge, what a world has just been opened to him; a world where animals talk and conspire, <i>Suppandi's</i> buffoonery is a way of life, <i>Tantri's</i> plans to usurp <i>Raja Hooja's </i>throne are doomed to eternity, and there lies forever by the side of <i>Shikari</i> <i>Shambu</i> the happenstance of serendipity.<br />
<br />
I owe to your <i>Tinkle</i> and A<i>mar Chitra Katha</i> the satisfied feeling I got as a kid at night when I lay in my bed before sleeping, reflecting on what plans might work for <i>Tantri</i>, or what else could go wrong. And the illustrations ! No dictionary was ever required for the expressions on the characters faces were so very...expressive. In fact, am surprised we children who read those books have grown up unbewildered that people in real life dont really say <i>tee hee hee</i> or tsk tsk or <i>sigh</i> or <i>sob</i>-<i>sob</i>, or <i>boo</i>-<i>hoo</i>. And the stories of Indian epics and mythology! How regal the kings and gods and how terrifying the demons ! <br />
<br />
I even wrote to you sending questions for the <i>Tinkle Tells You Why</i> column, hatching plans of buying a <i>"bulls-eye gun from Leo toys"</i> with the fifty rupees you would send me for my five questions and irritated my father no end by expecting a reply from you each day when he came home from work. You did reply after a month sending me <i>Tinkle</i> stickers as consolation for the fact that you couldn't feature my questions. Encouraged, I sent further questions to you and got more stickers. I look back with affection at such innocent joys and sorrows that I had !<br />
<br />
I grew up and started reading books but am forever alert, to delve into that wonderful world that you created for me as a child whenever I can. I feel sorry for children of today who dont know the pleasure of quietly reading by themselves or discovering a new word to be flaunted later before elders, or who dont feel happy enough looking at brand new books in a book fair or shop. I think before spending for a new pillow but readily buy a device to help me read in bed at night.<br />
<br />
And I remembered it all today, when I finally thought of you. Your life has been remarkable Uncle Pai, for an entire generation remembers you with affection.<br />
<br />
And I feel bitter at the irony that is life as the memories ram into my heart and I realize that it has been decided for you, like it had been for another, that you have had enough of the world on the twenty fourth day of February.<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-9454588052822196732010-08-15T02:58:00.002-05:002010-08-15T13:50:13.102-05:00Reassurance<div style="text-align: justify;">For as long as I can remember, I have always desired to excel in language, especially English. It doesn't dishearten me to be told that my equation is wrong as much as it does when it is alleged that my grammar or usage is incorrect.<br />
<br />
In school, I strove to prove myself to be a class apart from the others in this regard. Few compliments have been as satisfying as being told by my English teacher in class-IX that "my writing has a flow which is quite rare for my age". I painstakingly dotted the i's and crossed the t's with regard to grammar, and skillfully performed the drill of lexical gymnastics -- changing clauses and voices for cunningly contrived sentences, keeping an eagle eye on agreement of the verb with the subject, etc.<br />
<br />
However, I started noticing a change in my writing during my undergraduate years. While my vocabulary waxed, my writing grew languid as the austere practices of high school education started to wane. I started relying predominantly on my "ear for the language". I would judge the correctness of a sentence on the basis of how it "sounded".<br />
I began enjoying my writing, playing with words and admiring my own handiwork. I got better with time, and the end of the rope of high school grammar that tethered me had frayed. With characteristic modesty (!?!), I recognized that I have the gift of self-expression and articulation. There is also a general opinion of my friends that I do have a way with words.<br />
Despite all that however, there was a thought which I kept pushing to the back of my mind-- that I don't really remember the rules of grammar anymore, I was completely reliant on my "ear" when it comes to usage, and that I undoubtedly violate some sacrosanct rules in my endeavour to write aesthetically. I spoke about this to my friends and they also agreed that it is a normal occurrence; that writing and speaking depend primarily on "ear".<br />
<br />
The reason for my unease at this thought stems from the fact that I appreciate technique and the organized way of doing things. I believe that mastery of technique, by and large, gives a very good chance to succeed in any field. It is no coincidence that I liked Rahul Dravid the moment I saw the short ball drop dead at his feet under that solid back-foot defence.<br />
<br />
But I digress. Anyway, I started my graduate school and there was a lot of talk of "scientific writing" which by all accounts seemed to be some stilted and emasculated form of writing where one must use simple sentences and avoid at all costs, even reasonable complications in sentence construct. I resolved not to take that course (no pun intended), fearful that I might have to change the way I write. I believed that scientific writing is not divorced from aesthetic usage of the language, that there is room to convey a scientific idea precisely while still using the language delightfully.<br />
Luckily, I have seen enough books and papers (C.Truesdell, P.R.Halmos, A.B. Pippard, etc.) that were reassuring and I am now content in my belief.<br />
<br />
I crave the indulgence of the reader as I embark on another digression. My dislike for excessive use of short simple sentences can be explained by comparing the act with eating delicious food. Just as one must take sufficient amounts in each mouthful so as to get the best taste of good food, so too with sentences.<br />
<br />
My narrative until now can serve as a most instructive example of circumlocution for I come to the subject of this piece only now.<br />
Strunk and White's <span style="font-style: italic;">The Elements of Style </span>is a book that is highly rated by graduate students and professors alike. It is a book that is the staple fare of these courses on " scientific writing". Hence I have studiously avoided reading the book. What little I saw of its table of contents also seemed foreboding, appearing as it did, to be a collection of dos and donts designed to discourage me !<br />
I looked at it again today and these are some of the items that caught my eye:<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Use the active voice</span>.<br />
Hell ! And I use the passive voice often . I didn't like the way it started.<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;"> Put statements in positive form</span>.<br />
How then, do I manage my funny, long winded, complicated and negatively worded understatements<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Omit needless words</span>.<br />
Fair enough<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Do not overstate.</span><br />
Ha! Exaggeration is the cornerstone of humour. Read P.G.Wodehouse if you don't agree.<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Avoid the use of qualifiers</span>.<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Avoid Fancy words</span>.<br />
This was the biggest blow. I was so taken by the word <span style="font-style: italic;">Götterdämmerung</span>, with which I titled my last post over a year ago. "Celerity" is another word I have been in love with ever since I studied it in a textbook as "Laplace and Newton's formulas to measure the celerity of sound". Maybe the alliteration had something to do with it. Anyway, plain old speed then, no celerity. One cant then speak of "mathematical legerdemain", or "ratiocinate an assumption". No delightful sentences like O. Henry in <span style="font-style: italic;">Hostages to Momus</span>-- "...and if on any morning we get a telegram from the Secretary of State asking about the health of the scheme, I propose to acquire the most propinquitous and celeritous mule in this section and gallop diplomatically over into the neighboring and peaceful nation of Alabama."<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Do not inject opinion.</span><br />
That will be hard.<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Use figures of speech sparingly.</span><br />
I can hardly spare them.<br />
Thoroughly irritated, I started reading from the page which said "avoid fancy words".<br />
I finally read something that comforted me when it said:<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">In this, as in many matters pertaining to style, one's ear must be one's guide...</span><br />
<span style="font-style: italic;"> There is nothing wrong, really, with any word-- all are good, but some are better than the others. A matter of ear, a matter of reading the books that sharpen the ear.</span><br />
Confirmation, finally ! Exactly what I wanted.<br />
Then there followed some sentences and phrases which made me realise how baseless my opinion had been with regard to this book.<br />
<br />
On the pitfalls of unclear writing:<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Muddiness is not merely a disturber of prose, it is also a destroyer of life, of hope: death on the highway caused by a badly worded road sign, heartbreak among lovers caused by a misplaced phrase in a well-intentioned letter, anguish of a traveler expecting to be met at a railroad station and not being met because of a slipshod telegram.</span></div><br />
On similes :<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span style="font-style: italic;">The simile is a common device and a useful one, but similes coming in rapid fire, one right on top of another, are more distracting than illuminating. Readers need time to catch their breath; they can't be expected to compare everything with something else, and no relief in sight.</span><br />
<br />
On offbeat terms:<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span style="font-style: italic;">...the trouble with adopting coinages too quickly is that they will bedevil one by insinuating themselves where they do not belong.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Even the world of criticism has a modest pouch of private words (luminous, taut),</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> whose only virtue is that they are exceptionally nimble and can escape from the garden of</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> meaning over the wall.</span><br />
<br />
Finally, his summary:<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The language is perpetually in flux: it is a living stream, shifting, changing, receiving new</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> strength from a thousand tributaries, losing old forms in the backwaters of time. To</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> suggest that a young writer not swim in the main stream of this turbulence would be foolish</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> indeed, and such is not the intent of these cautionary remarks. The intent is to suggest that</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> in choosing between the formal and the informal, the regular and the offbeat, the general</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> and the special, the orthodox and the heretical, the beginner err on the side of </span><span style="font-style: italic;">conservatism, on the side of established usage. No idiom is taboo, no accent forbidden;</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> there is simply a better chance of doing well if the writer holds a steady course, enters the</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> stream of English quietly, and does not thrash about.</span></div><br />
<br />
But best of all, his parting words to the writer:<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">It is now necessary to warn you that your concern for the reader must be pure: you must sympathize with the reader's plight (most readers are in trouble about half the time) but never seek to know the reader's wants. Your whole duty as a writer is to please and satisfy yourself, and the true writer always plays to an audience of one. Start sniffing the air, or glancing at the Trend Machine, and you are as good as dead, although you may make a nice living.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
For all his exhortations to the contrary, one can see the mastery of words, the well chosen metaphors, the hint of exaggeration ...<br />
I succumbed to him when I read the bit about satisfying oneself. It has been the sole reason for my blog.<br />
<br />
With the fervor of a born-again believer, I started with the preface and uncovered yet another gem:<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">"Omit needless words!" cries the author on page 23, and into that imperative Will Strunk really put his heart and soul. In the days when I was sitting in his class, he omitted so many needless words, and omitted them so forcibly and with such eagerness and obvious relish, that he often seemed in the position of having shortchanged himself — a man left with nothing more to say yet with time to fill, a radio prophet who had out-distanced the clock.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
It is a joy to read such writing. My opinion of "scientific writing", as understood by many of my peers and some professors, has not changed. But I now concur that this book must be read by everyone who ever needs to write a sentence in English.</div>shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-34040875093743224812009-07-05T14:23:00.000-05:002009-07-05T15:23:52.860-05:00Götterdämmerung<span style="font-style: italic;">Götterdämmerung--Twilight of the Gods</span>, was the phrase that kept coming to my mind as I watched the epic final between Federer and Roddick. Admittedly, I am taking liberties with the word and using it in a sense contradictory to the usual usage, but the literal translation really was fitting here.<br /><br />After all we had all the legends of tennis- Sampras, Borg, Laver, Becker, Mcenroe, here at twilight to witness the epochal event- the final acceptance, if any more confirmation were still required, of Roger Federer as one of the all time greats, and arguably, the greatest ever.<br /><br />I really feel sorry for Roddick though. He played a great match, and <span style="font-style: italic;">almost</span> won it. These epic finals are cruel in the end, for only one can be called a winner. But these are worthy sportsmen ; generous in victory, gracious in defeat.<br /><br />If asked to summarise the match today however, most verbs seem unfair to me. I cannot bring myself to say <span style="font-style: italic;">Roddick lost</span> , or that <span style="font-style: italic;">Federer won</span>. <span style="font-style: italic;">Federer edged past Roddick</span> does not fit well either. <span style="font-style: italic;">Federer prevails at last</span> is close but I still wouldnt be satisfied. Perhaps my best attempt would be to to say <span style="font-style: italic;">Federer outlasts Roddick</span> , atleast it conveys the idea of a marathon where the competitors have risen above the outcome, and victory and defeat are merely names for the inexorable end.<br /><br />It has been a privelege to witness the exploits of Federer, since the day he defeated Sampras in the 2001 quarter finals. It helped that his era dawned when I had risen above personal favouritism and could appreciate the unbridled genius and mastery of the man, something I never could do with Sampras, or Agassi or Becker as long as they were playing, for I was rooting fervently for Goran Ivanisevic.<br /><br /> How I wish I could have a day like this. It must be a wonderful life, however short, if on a glorious summer evening, the Gods come down to witness your acheivement and welcome you into their pantheon. <br /><br />Götterdämmerung indeed !!shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-63035189608004725372009-04-25T16:34:00.000-05:002009-04-25T17:59:13.459-05:00Sophistry and SyllogismIt has been my observation for a long time now, that people do not really listen to what you are saying-something that I take great pains to do, and what is worse, they respond at times with illogical answers.<br /><br />Many do not really understand the idea of "hypothesis", I would think. I have come across such incidents many times, but to illustrate, I will, as I usually do, take examples from mathematics.<br />Imagine I asked you: " If 1+1 =11, what is 2+2 ?"<br />If you are one of those who would say: "But that's not possible, 1+1 =2 !!",<br />then you are one of those this post is meant for.<br /><br />First let me explain why I think it is illogical to give the answer stated above.<br /><br />The key of course , is the word "If ". When put sarcastically, the question means- Please be condescending enough to grant me the status of an intellectual midget, and assuming the truth of the statement that 1+1 =11, try and think the way an idiot like me would to answer what would 2+2 be.<br /><br />So to me, the answers could be 22, or 222. If you say I do not know, that is quite acceptable too.<br />It's the answer "But it is not 11 !" that riles me.<br /><br />For it is clear that they do not understand what the word "If" means in that sentence.<br />When someone begins a statement with "If ", you are only allowed to think with that as the truth, and not question the veracity of the statement itself.<br /><br />It is true that at times, the person asking the question may be a total numbskull who is not aware of the truth, but if he starts a question with "If ", please be gracious enough to humour him by thinking likewise.<br /><br />I have now found a way to make myself clear to these people who do not listen to what you are saying. The solution lies in voice modulation :)<br /> " <span style="font-weight: bold;">IFFF</span> , .... If 1+1 =2, <span style="font-weight: bold;">THEN</span> what is 2+2 ? " (here bold letters denote full throated yell )<br /><br />It is a waste of words in the language , if people cannot sense conditional statements even when you make one and a sad situation indeed.shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-43426989396532689422008-10-06T23:20:00.000-05:002008-10-07T01:23:43.670-05:00Justice is blind....and so are its keepers !Academic integrity is highly valued in this country and rightly so. There are stiff deterrents to ward off probable offenders. However, an incident occurred today which reflects the title of this post and has left me feeling dissatisfied.<br /><br />In class today a student was apparently found guilty of copying the solution to a homework problem verbatim from the book. Without disputing the story, I agree that it was a foolish, dishonest and dangerous thing to do and having done so he definitely deserves punishment.<br /> The University that I am in has a very strict code called the _____ code of honour and violating it brings heavy punishment. But I was shocked at the magnitude of it-F grade in the course and dismissal from the university. I write this hoping the latter does not happen.<br />Let me just put that in perspective. A foolish student makes a mistake like this once. Not in an examination but in one problem of a homework that will not even amount to a tenth of the total weightage. And for that the self righteous men in authority decide to enforce the law to the letter. They decide to end his career by terminating his admission at the university. Is that fair?<br /> I know law is blind-its precisely for that reason I do not have much respect for it; but surely the men enforcing it need not be blind. I thought the purpose of the law is to punish, not destroy. And in this case they could have put the fear of God into the student by doing far less, and yet setting an example, teaching him a lesson, without flogging a dead horse. Even a murderer gets a chance to live, quite often. This is just a student. Surely he deserves another chance.<br />But perhaps this is a symptom of a greater evil here-the fiendish desire to adhere to the letter of the law without using one's mind to decide the right course of action-a contrast with India where there is a pathological desire to break the law.<br /><br />I remember the campus newspaper reporting on the ridiculous rates of fines that apply to cyclists who break the traffic rules. In accordance with the spirit of the law that treats all offenders equally, one on a bike worth a double digit amount who would be hard pressed to cause greivous bodily harm even if he so desired and another in a car worth a princely sum and weighing a hundred times more pay the same penalty for violating road rules.<br />Surely, such a punishment serves no purpose . <br /><br />Fire is a good teacher, it is said, because a small child learns the lesson after getting burnt and knows not to touch the fire. How would it be if he were to touch it and be punished by being charred to death ?shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-57813342941238966812008-09-28T01:10:00.000-05:002008-09-29T09:32:44.008-05:00Celerity- the congenital love of manI think it is intrinsic to human nature to love speed. I have a predilection for the word "celerity", but I also know I will not win any popularity votes by using that word, hence I will not use it again here :). Right from childhood, most of us have this fascination for speed. Fast trains, fast cars and later on, maybe fast girls !! ;) I was no different (except maybe in the last item:). I have driven my father crazy by making him repeat, ad nauseum, the difference between Diesel and Electric Engines, Broad and Metre gauge trains, the Rajdhani and other Superfast trains, among others.<br />This liking for speed also manifests itself in sports. In cricket, the sight of a fast bowler making a batsman hop, shattering his stumps is always stirring. As a kid everyone wants to bowl fast. Its only the ones who are unable to do that try to bowl spin.<br />This same sentiment is carried over to tennis too. I loved watching Wimbledon. Big serves, quick rallies and a skidding surface while I hated the slow red clay of Roland Garros.<br /><br />But there were certain incidents that niggled. I found it was very difficult to cycle slowly, for instance. But of course I didn't let that bother me much. It was much later , when I think I matured, that I seriously thought about this human fascination with speed. And I have been thinking of it ever since. Every case I think about leads me to the same conclusion-that speed is always the easier thing to deal with. It is when you slow things down that it becomes a more holistic challenge. This is my exposition of this matter with some examples that influenced me.<br /><br />I will start with Cricket-my passion. As mentioned before it is impossible to not be bowled over (pun intended :) when you see Waqar Younis or Wasim Akram come up with those deliveries that seem to have a mind of their own and swerve like heat seeking missiles to find their target. Or see a still photo of a batsman airborne, swaying away, torso almost horizontal and smelling the leather inches from his nose. Or in another case, bat horizontal, making contact in front of his face with eyes closed. One must get roused by such images. For speed is something that is earthy. It thrives on the blood rushing to the head. That is the defining character of each of those images. Now think of spin in cricket. It is diametrically opposite. It is about trickery and deception, patience and skill, concentration and a war of attrition. When I see a spinner throw the ball up in the air, and I see it insidiously curving away in the air and later spit off the pitch, the batsman has to have so many skills. Stretch out, have soft hands,wait for the ball, resist the innate urge to swing wildly.... Anyone who has played street cricket will know this. It is so much more a mental contest, and one of the delights is to see a batsman stranded far down the pitch, look back to see the bails off and wonder how he had come so far down. This involves a far more subtle art-both playing and bowling spin and hence we have a dearth of both as compared to fast bowlers. Fast bowling is just about that moment and everything happens so fast there is not time enough for the mental processes to come into play. Thus fast bowling is mostly muscle and brawn while spin is wiles and temptation. During the test match at Adelaide there was a fascinating interview with Terry Jenner, formerly Warne's coach. His perspicuous observations on spin bowling were most instructive and he quoted Bishan Singh Bedi's words as a message for all spinners, that "Spin is in the air and break is off the pitch". Hence you have to go beyond the obvious to see and appreciate the nuances of spin bowling.<br /><br />If we go to the green grass of Wimbledon, the surface is quick. Balls roll and die quickly. Rallies are short. And everyone loves it. Travel to the red clay of Roland Garros and its different. The surface (pun definitely intended ) is a great leveller :) The rallies are long, the ball bounces and sits up and some all time great players never manage a win there. The clay makes you stop and think. It gives you time to make a choice-where do you want to hit it, what shot do you play. It is not about impulse but contemplation. It has parallels with life-points don't come easy and one has to be tenacious, one cannot sit back and relax thinking a point is won. I feel it involves more skills than winning at Wimbledon and I have been able to enjoy the battles at Roland Garros all the more after I realised this.<br /><br />Slow cycling is another example. When you go slow, your very balance is questioned. But it is quite easy to go fast. Even aeroplanes stall at low speeds, while high speeds are not a problem. My friend Harsha who learns Classical music also says that singing slowly and holding a note is what makes a good vocalist for that is when you are prone to error. Singing at higher pace is much easier.<br /><br />Perhaps, to give a nerdy counterexample I will illustrate the case of the speed of sound as taught in high school . Newton thought the compression/rarefaction of air was a "slow" process and hence isothermal and calculated a value of sonic velocity which was found to be far below what was known. Later Laplace corrected it by assuming it is a "rapid" adiabatic process and the corresponding sonic velocity was accurate. Thus we have to be thankful that the process is rapid else sound would have travelled slower and many of our technological applications would not work the same. Its only in such matters that high speed involves intricacies.<br /><br />I have perhaps given enough examples. Even as you read, you might have thought of some more. My idea is that speed or change is the order of nature. Time and thought, among all things flow quickest. Slowing things down is an attempt to resist change, in a sense. Hence such tasks are inherently more subtle. There is another more logical reason though. As pointed out before, when things are slower and you have to make a choice, it involves more than just your reflexes, it is about conscious thought. Speed is perhaps like war-once the first shot is fired, and the adrenaline flows, anyone can be brave. But the nerve wracking wait for an ambush is where the real test lies. Hence I love the beauty inherent in a slow motion video.<br /><br />My point after all this is only that even as we continue to be enthralled by speed let us recognize that it is a natural urge, while next time you see Muralidharan or Warne bowl, and/or somebody play them well, take a moment to reflect that there is much more to it than meets the eye.shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-4715708672598315882008-09-26T12:16:00.000-05:002008-09-26T00:55:51.791-05:00The REMINISCENCES<div><em>As I promised, this is the introduction to the REM that was written in 2006.Its something thats special for me, and that is the reason am putting it up. It was titled, quite appropriately, as Footprints on the sands of time.</em></div><br /><div> </div><br /><div> </div><br /><div> </div><br /><div> </div><br /><div><strong>Foot prints on the sands of time…….<br /></strong><br /><br /><br />On the third day of September in 2002, when four hundred and sixty odd Destiny’s children were brought together by fate from different parts of the country, to change lives, change their life, and have the time of their lives, the expanse of the entire nation was injected into this eight hundred acre Wonderland.</div><br /><div><br />We entered with apprehension of the years ahead but leave with comprehension of what these years mean to us, for however high we rise in life, we will always remember that these were our roots, this was where our outlook was moulded.</div><br /><div><br />It’s been an epic journey, one that seems to have gone past in the blink of an eye. Like diamonds cutting diamonds were we, polishing each other and getting ready to face the world, as stereotypes were banished, and true friendships were forged- Friendships that have endured and transcended those early days of ragging, the late night GEC-NIT fiascos, the euphemistic Club Inductions, silly TV room fights, the bucket party brawls, and the halcyon days of Agate life, even as tragedy has befallen some of our mates on the way. </div><br /><div><br />The chariot of time moved on. We started growing out of our shadows. The innocent became worldly wise, the brash and the outspoken mellowed with tinges of prudence, the stoical became sentimental and the proverbial ugly ducklings found their wings. As a wise man once said “Young men think themselves immortal”, so did we, thinking this would never end.</div><br /><div><br />Trail blazers all the way, we stood at the forefront of some monumental events-The first Pragyan, the last of the departmental symposiums, and the first and maybe the last NIT Fest.<br />Finally at the end if it all we look back at these years well spent and awaken to the inevitable reality. A familiar lump forms in the throat, and you will time to pass slower But like a ball of wool, it seems to run quicker at the end; you clutch wildly but time rolls on, inexorably. Apprehension of the future returns and you say to yourself- “If only……”<br />When again will we feel so joyful at other’s joy, or so gloomy at another’s heartbreak? Perhaps never again.</div><br /><div><br />Life might suck us into its whirlpool of hypocrisy and cunningness. But years hence when we meet again, with greying hair and furrowed face, tired of plodding on through life, the sight of a buddy from these golden days will surely make us tear apart our veneer of propriety and for sometime at least go back in time and relive these REMINISCENCES.<br />The Eagles put it best when they said: “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave………”</div><br /><div><br />For you have left behind your foot prints in the sands of time…..<br />Remember this when the Tower of Time recedes in the rear view mirror and you see yourself driven away into the sunset. Do not weep that its over, instead smile that it happened.</div>shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-62195983647070579392008-09-26T00:39:00.000-05:002008-09-26T00:40:06.767-05:00The writing of the REM.Continuing on with my theme of sloth and recycled creativity, today I will post, to increase my post count, what I consider will stand as my best writing ever. But only a fellow <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">NITTian</span> will perhaps understand and concur with what I say.<br />Every year at the end of eighth semester, we outgoing students bring out something like a memoir of the graduating class, titled appropriately, REMINISCENCES. It is one bundle of nostalgia and joy rolled into one, as it gives an irreverent, tongue-in-cheek, account of each individual’s life at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">NITT</span> with special emphasis on his accomplishments, or lack thereof, written by his or her inner circle of friends. One left handed compliment, delivered in a typically sarcastic manner here, we consider to be worth volumes of paeans sung in our honour.<br />And I had the honour of writing the introductory page to the REMINISCENCES titled “Footprints on the sands of time…” It was something I always dreamt about since the first time I had seen the REM., and I was elated when it finally came true-that I would get to speak on behalf of my entire batch of five hundred, for to be honest, there were people more talented than myself, but I probably wanted it more than others. As one of my favourite maxims goes- The race <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">isn</span>’t to the swift, nor battle to the strong, but victory goes to the one who wants it the most.<br />I remember that hot summer afternoon in March clearly. I was scribbling away lying on my bed, looking out through my window at what we fondly called the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">RCG</span> (Ruby Cricket Ground :), with the rumbling of the “train fan” on the ceiling for company. Just then Vicky popped in, saw what I was doing, and commented that I have a long afternoon’s work ahead of me.<br />I normally take a long time to write, lovingly lingering over each word, playing with it, and admiring it with shameless narcissism :). But that day I finished within an hour. Once I started, I wrote with pure emotion, the words simply flowing, with none of my customary puns and word play. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Infact</span> I was almost in tears when I finished. That was one of the rare times that I wrote from the heart, with the head playing second fiddle.<br />When the REM. was published, people came and told me that I had translated into print their very feelings and made them nostalgic already. Among them were some really gifted people who wrote better than I did, and I consider that one of the best moments of my life so far.<br />So that was my best salute to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">NITT</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">NITTians</span>, and the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">NITTian</span> way of life.<br />Enough said in this post, so I will post my write up for the REM. in my next post.shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-32240302705236613352008-07-28T15:37:00.000-05:002008-07-28T15:47:43.089-05:00Badam Milk with SundarFor all those who have been miffed that I havent posted anything for sometime, here is the next one:<br /><a href="http://coffeewithsundar.com/coffee-with-shriram-srinivasan-about-life-at-texas-a-and-m-university/"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">http://coffeewithsundar.com/coffee-with-shriram-srinivasan-about-life-at-texas-a-and-m-university/</span></a><br />Its a form of cheating I know, but at the end of the day, they all count!!:Dshriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-1969777292281777332008-04-09T12:36:00.000-05:002008-04-09T13:23:52.524-05:00Shaping destiny<span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><blockquote style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">If you can risk all your winnings on one turn of pitch and toss,<br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">And lose, and start again at your beginnings, and not breathe a word of your loss<br /><br />-----Rudyard Kipling</span></span></blockquote><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><br />Today I met a remarkable person who exemplifies these lines.His name is Dr Kool. Actually that isnt his name,he installs and services air conditioning equipment,and thats his (and his company's) trade name.<br />Dr Kool is an old man who still wears clothes from another age-trousers with straps that go over his shoulder :-) He is a remarkably efficient and reliable worker too.<br />I had heard that he actually is a Dr, and was once a faculty at A&M.Naturally, I <span style="font-style: italic;">had</span> to ask :)<br /><br />What Dr Kool told me was amazing.Apparently he did teach statics, material sciences and engineering graphics at A&M, at the same time working on his PhD.He had almost completed his dissertation too when he had an epiphany.He realised that this wasnt what he wanted to do,so he quit and dropped the idea of becoming a Dr, and instead became Dr Kool, and a very successful one at that.An amazing story isnt it?<br /><br />Our first thought when we hear about such people is always-"Oh..he is so reckless..I would have got my PhD first before doing that!!" Indeed that was my thought too. But if you really,and I mean<span style="font-style: italic;"> reall</span>y, know what you want to do,then success is often a foregone conclusion and the thought of failure never really enters your head,till you probably look back and think about it and say to yourself-" How insane I was, what if things had not turned out right?"<br />As one of my favourite books-Coelho's "Veronika decides to die" taught me-a little insanity is absolutely essential to life.<br /><br />It also reminds me of another person I admire hugely-Anu Hasan.A pity she is much older and married too :) I was watching an interview of hers on youtube and at the end of it she says something that I shall never forget-that every moment of life,she is willing to give up what she is to try and become what she can be!<br /><br />I envy such people,for they are the ones who can make a difference in this world and blaze a trail.It makes me wonder, if I am ever confronted by such a moment, would I have the courage,that insanity, to give it all up for something better?<br />I sure hope I do.Even as the years roll by and the mind matures, I still want to retain that bit of lunacy (that I have yet:),that adolescent recklessness ,that lets you do things you can look back on later and marvel at how you dared to do them.<br />After all, I now believe its the attitude that matters in the end, and not an over rated quality like intelligence or ability.shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-13638079386852810472008-03-09T00:50:00.000-06:002008-03-09T01:08:44.722-06:00Naming and renamingA few days ago, while chatting with a friend of mine, we were talking about one of the modern gimmicks of regional politics-that of renaming places. Thinking about it at leisure, I realised that it is an issue that is far more complicated than I initially thought.<br />Some of my views are biased by my perspective, of course, but it’s my blog after all, so I get to air them. Nevertheless, am sure you will find that my opinions do merit some thought.<br />I have so much to say that I am at a loss for words:)and finding it difficult to organize my thoughts.<br /><br />Perhaps I can begin by first telling you what, in my opinion, should never ever be advanced as a defence for renaming anything important. My room mate Harsha is from Bangalore or Bengaluru (ugh!).When the change was made, we were arguing about it and I said “Bangalore” sounds so much better. He countered by saying that its just because I am used to “Bangalore” and that with time I would get used to “Bengaluru” as well. To me that is an asinine argument, for over time we get used to anything anyway-one of the greatest blessings and tragedies of the human race. If you ever heard the nicknames that are bestowed on people in engineering college hostels ( I unfortunately can’t cite examples because most are unprintable:) you would know what I mean. You don’t have a choice-you just accept whatever people call you, and by the end even abuses appear to be dulcet sounding. So suppose, I decide to rename Bangalore as say “Son of a bitch” or better still “Bang-Galore” or “ Bang- Lore” ( Sorry, but I just had to do this:), am sure people a hundred years from now will be used to it. That is no reason for renaming the city. But I didn’t tell Harsha this and hurt his sentiments:)<br /><br />That also brings me to the dichotomy that is central to the issue-that between regionalism and history. Calcutta, Madras, Bombay and Calicut are Anglicised versions of their regional names, is a common refrain. But this argument too is specious in my view. For, how do you decide what is native to the region? How do you know that “Kolkata” is untainted by any foreign influence? Maybe it was called something else earlier just like Bengal was called Gauda in the past. I imagine some tribal chieftain named Kalikata from former Burma might have spent the night at a village here and seduced the village belle in a barn and gone on, naming the village after him. Not hard to imagine, is it? (The idea, not the nocturnal action, you perverts!! :)<br /><br />Thus my point is that history is written all the while, and names keep changing .So you cannot retrace its evolution all the way. Besides, even if the names are Anglicised, so what? Are we trying to deny our past? As it is, everything about Calcutta, its drainage, the Howrah Bridge, the trams are contributions of the British rule anyway. When written in English, Calcutta, Madras and Bombay seem perfectly acceptable to me. It was always spelt Kolkata in Bengali anyway.<br />The economics of a name change I shall not go into, for that is obvious to all.<br /><br />A name is about association. Some names immediately invoke a picture in your mind. In Assam an Englishman ordered “Dig boy, dig”. And so he did and struck gold or black gold rather. That place is named Digboi, site of India’s first oil refinery. Now think for a moment. Wouldn’t this wonderful association be lost if say, the town were to be renamed Gopinathnagar or something like that after Assam’s first chief minister?<br /><br />Sometimes a name has an appeal by its very quirky nature. Dumdum airport in Calcutta is an example. While Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose airport is so impersonal, Dumdum brings back images of my first flight. I am from Calcutta and love the city, and it must be obvious to you by now, that I hate Kolkata. To me, another wonderful aspect of the city that has been lost is the names of streets. Calcutta had a road named after practically every Viceroy of India. Dalhousie Square, Canning Street, Elgin Road, Bentick Street, Ripon street, Minto park, Curzon park and so on. Every time I pass by them, the events of their reign cross my mind, at least whatever I can remember of class 9 and 10 history :)While I understand renaming the main thoroughfares after Indian freedom fighters, maybe the side streets could have been left alone, for people still refer to them by their old names anyway. Calcutta’s only boulevard, Southern Avenue goes right beside the Lake, and is also called Meghnad Saha Sarani.The name makes me wince and cabbies will stare blankly at you too. Same goes for Gariahat as Leelavati Sarani.<br /><br />I must add that some names just <em>sound</em> better, my personal idiosyncrasy, if you like. So I<br />do think Udhagamandalam sounds better than Ootacamund (Ooty for you) though Calicut I prefer to Kozhikode.About Kanyakumari am confused. Though Kanyakumari sounds better to me (maybe because of allusions to kanya and kumari :) Cape Camorin is more informative as the southern most point of the Indian mainland, like the Cape of Good Hope.<br /><br />It’s just the sheer lyrical beauty or musicality of some names I suppose. So if I had my way, I would prefer aerodrome to airport. In nursery that’s what I was taught and the only aeroplanes I knew then were toys. And I hate American airplanes-it’s always aeroplanes for me. Thank God they still call it aerodynamics, or am sure many students of air dynamics would have changed their majors:) In Rudraprayag at the confluence of Alaknanda and Mandakini, I was bowled over by Alaknanda, not so by Mandakini.<br /><br />Do I sound like a petulant child when I say this? My blog is the only place where I can say such things, some of which I have held onto since childhood.<br />That’s all I have to say about this. I hope you found this post entertaining. But I will leave you with a final thought-what if Delhi was renamed Indraprastha? :)<br /><br />Finally, my dear readers, am sure you must have such quirky preferences too-some names that you like, some that you hate-anything irrational or illogical:) If so please share them with me, I am keen to hear it.shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-19174934051416934892008-03-01T08:58:00.000-06:002008-03-01T09:15:11.621-06:00Androids<em>Since I am desperately in search of something to constructively engage my attention,I thought of resurrecting this blog.A pity that things in life cannot be undone as easily as this blog can be brought to life again.While cleaning up my desktop,I came across this travesty of a short story,written, so it says, on 25 th July 2006,around the time that I started blogging.I thought of it then as a juvenile attempt and didnt post it.But ironically,as time passes,opinions change, and so has mine.I have realised that you can make a career out of stating the obvious,the only pertinent question being obvious to whom.There are different levels of obviousness.The lowest level among these in my opinion,is populated by the ranks of management and HR "consultants". And in this circumlocution do not forget that I was actually lazy enough to write nothing new and pass this off as new instead.On with the story! I would be keen to see what comments it brings......</em><br /><em>*****************************************************************</em><br />The man walked on. His pace had increased. Thoughts churned his head furiously. The 3 females following him continued doing so. The hunter and the hunted both knew which foot the boot was on.<br /><br /> “If they get me”, thought the man,"tommorows headline would read: Adam teasing reaches epic proportions: Roadside Juliets claim another victim” He thought, with irony, of the apposite name for this evil. It had become very unsafe for males to be travelling unaccompanied after sunset, yet he had ignored warnings. Why was I born a man?<br />He thought for the umpteenth time that God must be a She, for only then could She inflict such pain on men.<br /><br />The mere birth of a boy was becoming a rare occurence, for male infanticide was a prevalent menace. The Government was trying its best to curb it; male infanticide was declared a major offence. Various groups were trying to spread awareness of this. The Presidents Award for Best Film had gone to "Pitrbhoomi", which dealt with that subject. Apparently the film showcased a perverted society where men have become extinct, and one man was husband to a family of 5 women.Well...that day is not far off...he thought morosely.<br /><br />And even if boys do manage to cross infancy and puberty, very little could be done about benzene deaths.Yes, it was gross injustice but what could you say when the laws were not stringent and lawmakers themselves women. His own brother had been ignited with benzene for not conforming to demands made before marriage. He had paid 12 lakhs, got a ladies scooty, and could not do anything else.<br /><br />And the android cycle and andropause.The lesser said the better. He often wondered why men should bear offspring. It was his misfortune that he carried the Y chromosome and he knew that it was not his fault if a boy was born. But he got beaten for that though the sex determining chromosome comes from the female. Right and wrong are decided by who is in power at the time. The laws of Fuzzy logic told him that. It indeed was fuzzy.<br /><br />Come to think of it, he was one of the rare ones who was educated. Why education when you are going to become a househusband and merely an instrument of copulation, was the common refrain. Yet he had doggedly refused to listen. He was highly qualified now, despite all the quarrels with his wife over his job.<br /><br />And the females were closer now. One more turn and he knew he would be safe.<br />Even as he broke into a run to take the corner quickly, he thought of particles and anti particles. He knew all about atomic and particle physics. Of every universe that has an anti universe which is diametrically opposite. He wondered idly where the alternate universe to this would be. He would give anything to be there. But he didn’t really believe in its existence. People can’t be so cruel anywhere else, he thought.<br /><br />He turned blind at the corner and raced over the footpath.<br /><br />It was a cul-de-sac.shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-79399421157784437732007-11-01T16:48:00.000-05:002007-11-01T18:26:12.541-05:00Even as life sucks.....it does go on....I am really happy right now.The sun is out.The mild sun of winter,that brings with it its warmth,and makes you drop everything and just stand and stare.I am still working on the misery called Matlab,but I went out to take a break , and am glad I did.<br />Talking with my friend,standing outside the department,suddenly I stood transfixed.In the distance I saw a girl,and she was coming right at us.Oh how graceful she was,as she glided over the ground on her roller skates.She weaved,she dodged,jumped onto the sidewalk and made it seem as if she was born with wheels on her legs!Now a few mins later I dont even remember how she looked! For once,I wasnt watching the girl the way I normally do,so taken in was I with her grace;)<br />She disappeared into the crowd,but left me feeling great indeed.<br />I appreciate this moment all the more because the last week has been one of the most frustrating weeks of my life.Every night I go to sleep angry,and in the morning, I get up angry again.I am angry at myself,my friends,and feel quite sorry for myself at times.And lots of things have been going wrong too,just at this time.<br />I hope this week ends this agonising exam for good.I am sick,tired,frustrated, and in general have lost my good humour,all because of this dastardly thing called coding.<br />And maybe this is the time to share a thought about computer "science".(I would put a lot more quotation marks around that word if I could) A professor here told me in all seriousness how its the disciplines that lack science which go to great lengths to prove they are,and even have it in their names.Consider how ridiculous physical science,or chemical science,or mathematical science sounds.The word science is redundant, and implicit,and am happy that I dont belong to some "mechanical science".Now consider the other "sciences"- social "science"(trying hard to keep a straight face),political science(apoplexy!!), and I wont even name the other that I have in mind.<br />I am inclined to agree with him.<br />But all that doesnt change the fact that am sick ,tired and frustrated with everything! Life sucks to infinity.Indeed....shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-11978855192761896052007-09-22T22:56:00.000-05:002007-09-22T23:42:35.515-05:00One fun filled dayToday was simply awesome.To cut things short,the cricket match made my day!<br />In the morning, Jagannath and Jhampala came over to watch the semifinal. After a lot of cursing,the links finally worked,and I settled down to watch my first complete cricket match in more than a year:) The last time I tried watching,I went away angry and upset at the Indian debacle against Srilanka at the WC.I was hoping today would be better, and thankfully it was.Shouting,cheering,and being simply awestruck by Yuvraj's pyrotechnics, the Indian innings passed by in the blink of an eye.<br />Then we wondered and feared what the Aussie response was going to be.It was all well until Symonds walked in.Then followed absolute mayhem. But I watched it till the end.I enjoyed the drama that unfolded, and finally savoured the moment of victory:)<br />It was an exhilarating feeling, something I have missed sorely the past one year. A few hours of this is worth a dozen movies any day!What I will also remember are the abuses we hurled at the bowlers,(the choicest ones reserved for Joginder Sharma in his first spell:) It reminded me of watching matches in Topaz.You would rather die than let your near and dear ones hear the language that is used in the TV room when cricket matches are in progress;)<br />I really liked Dhoni's attitude to the game-and he doesn't make any inane comments after the match.What I found so refreshing were his words to Joginder Sharma before the last over-that the Aussies were used to winning,and are expected to win from here too.So just bowl as you would in a domestic match,and let the batsman do all the work,if he could.<br />I think this match might just have rekindled my interest in the game.Incidentally,this might also sound the death knell for one day cricket as we know it.<br />After the match ended,I hardly got any time for lunch before we left for the temple-their 10th anniversary celebrations. The main objective was the food stalls-home made dishes that you could have after buying tickets.I had delicious <span style="font-style: italic;">pav-bhaji</span>, absolutely ethereal <span style="font-style: italic;">chutney</span> with <span style="font-style: italic;">vada,idli </span>and<span style="font-style: italic;"> dosa</span>. All work has been deferred till tomorrow.<br />So I sit writing now, contented and happy.There ought to be more days like this, I reflect!<br />And I really don't care if we win or lose on Monday.Today was good enough:-)shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-40290362176085772972007-09-03T12:29:00.000-05:002007-09-03T13:48:39.263-05:005 years hence and the beginning of a new semJust to remind myself of another trivial milestone,September 3rd,2002 was the first day of college.When hostel rooms were allotted, and sitting in the <em>Barn</em>,seniors eyed us ominously from the sidelines.Grabbing the best cupboard and the best cot in the room,and then going down for the most horrifying meal of my entire life.It was <em>pongal,</em>I remember clearly, an unimaginable,unpalatable gooey substance,to be had with a little sugar by the side.I have often reflected that they never could produce a worse meal in 4 years.It must have been one sublime effort the first day,designed to make sure that it only gets better.<br />I can actually see myself as I was then-younger,foolish but also with a burning optimism and romanticism about life-something that is still unchanged I think.<br />Cutting short my wistful reminiscencing, new semester classes have begun.This semester promises to be interesting,exciting and tough.In fact my life has already moved up a gear in one week.I also had a lot of fun the past one month with the other NITTIans and it reinforced what I always felt,that its so easy to connect with people sharing a common past, even if you did not know them before.<br />My blogging might become infrequent now that classes have started.But if inspiration strikes,in the form of zip codes or the by-now-popular(notorious) Preetha-Preethi Propositioning Problem:D (notice the skillful use of alliteration here:),then I will not let that moment pass.<br />Here is hoping for good grades, good life and good research for this semester!shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-71963494824844739842007-08-08T15:02:00.001-05:002007-08-08T17:14:22.828-05:00The truth about arranged marriagesI had my final exam today and the paper being easy,the exam was a breeze.So 3 weeks of rest follow for me after a busy month of classes.After my exam,I happened to read this:<br /><a href="http://21writersblock.blogspot.com/2007/08/youve-got-mail-again.html">http://21writersblock.blogspot.com/2007/08/youve-got-mail-again.html</a><br />Now the author happens to be someone I am very fond of,and her earnest appeal to people in general to find a way to explain the idea of arranged marriage didnt fall on deaf ears.I took upon my frail shoulders the onerous task of removing the stigma(if I may call it that) associated with an "<em>arranged</em>" marriage.I know that the tone of my writing puts the word "arranged" at about the same level as the word match "<em>fixing</em>" in cricket.A thousand pardons for that inadvertent error.At the outset, let me issue the usual disclaimers that am neither married nor in love,and any views that I may express may be taken with many grains of salt.<br /><br />To any prospective girls who might have an outside chance of falling in love with yours truly--I agree that after reading this your feelings for me would probably be not far from that you share for a brick on the road,or the friendly neighbourhood bulldozer, for that matter.I hasten to add that I am a romantic at heart,and its just my other side taking over for a brief period.I may be guilty of bringing down something as intangible as love,to something as mundane as mathematics.However,there are similarities-both are abstract:)) to start with.But if you look beyond the obvious ,am sure the parable am going to narrate will prove most instructive.<br />I shall assume that most of my readers are familiar with some numerical techniques for finding roots of equations.But the person for whom the post is intended, though clever, almost certainly doesnt,so a quick introduction.<br /> A function <em>f(x)</em> is said to have a root at <em>c</em> if <em>f(c)=0</em>.Now consider an equation like <em>f(x,y).</em> The point <em>(i,j)</em> is a root if <em>f(i,j)=0</em>.<br />Consider an equation like <em>x-cos(x+4)=0</em> or better still <em>sin(x)-log(y) +6=0</em><br />I ask you to find a root of the equation.<br />To come to my point,I need 2 names.Lets take,err...preetha and preethi,for want of any better names:)).I give this problem to both of them, and allow them use of an elementary calculator.<br />Preetha,being a highly whimsical girl and a good programmer,insists on the following idiosyncrasy.She wants to arrive at the solution by chance alone,so with the help of a random number generator,she tries out numbers one after the other and tries to find if any of them is a root.Sometimes its love,oops! sorry, root at first sight.But often the random numbers turn out too random,and try as she might,picking a root by trial seems too difficult for some equations.But she is delighted whenever she does stumble on the root by chance:)<br />Preethi on the other hand is a girl singularly devoid of such eccentricity.She consults a book of numerical recipes and hits upon tried and tested techniques like the Golden Search method,Newton Raphson method,bisection method or for more complicated functions,Steepest Descent method and so on.The way these methods work is as follows.<br />Instead of choosing at random,from the general behavior of the given function,a smaller region is identified in the search space,where a root is likely to occur.Once the region is identified,simply do what Preetha does at random-try out numbers in the region and see which one fits.Notice that in the end, you dont accept a number as a root without checking its functional value.So you are not compromising in any way:))<br />The general name for such techniques is quite appropriate-Directed Search methods:))<br />Some more comments on this technique are warranted.An equation can have more than one root.But they all might not lie in the same search space.Also let us recognise a tacit assumption we have made that the equation in question has a <em>real</em> root,which might even be false.(sorry!!)<br />Assuming that both Preetha and Preethi arrive at the same solution,lets now explore the matter further.For one thing,would you expect that Preetha is happier than Preethi just because she "found" her root by chance alone?Likely not.Now how viable is Preetha's method? If she has time till kingdom come,its a foolproof method.But if you are short of time, then trusting the God of Randomness is not highly advised.<br />Then there is the problem of "<em>irrational</em>" roots:) In such cases people stop their search once they find an integer value <em>sufficiently close</em> to the root.:)How close?That's decided by the Convergence Criterion -the mathematical term for this.<br />Also let us remind ourselves that the best method actually would be to graph the function and simply determine all the roots by inspection. But such a process is feasible if you are <em>looking from above</em> ,which we are not.<br />Having said all that,when I have an equation of my own to solve,I will give the random numbers a chance first:)To my dearest random root finder I have this to say-I do wish with all my heart that the correct number pops up soon.Randomly,or with an algorithm,does it really matter ?:)<br /><em>I believe in the fact that if you wish something for others,it comes true.And I say this in all seriousness</em>.shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-76212991913477225092007-08-03T16:23:00.001-05:002007-08-03T17:24:23.482-05:00Important dates of the second kind ! :)If you are starting to read it thinking its about my <em>dates</em>,you are wrong.I have given up on that and am resigned to the fact that nothing like that will ever happen to me :))<br />This post is more to remind myself than about writing anything funny or concrete.<br /><br />Today is August 3rd.Exactly a year ago on this day, I got my visa. Maybe not everyone will think that event noteworthy,but I know otherwise.I was put through an emotional shredder for a month before finally getting it.And so how does it feel,I ask myself, a year hence?<br />Well, it mostly feels like a dream, as though all that never happened.And yet there is a residue of the disappointment, the uncertainty,the prospect of seeing your dreams crumble, that gets me disturbed simply by thinking.Now sitting in the future,it sometimes feels that it was not anything to worry about.And thats the peculiar quality of the human psyche.<br />I once read a book by Dan Gilbert titled Stumbling on happiness,and it is this quality that he often talks about.<br />The inability of the human mind (or heart, whichever you prefer) to reconstruct effectively or accurately the emotions felt in the past.I have felt dissapointment before, joy and elation too,but every time is like a first time. It is as if my own past experiences are vicarious to my own self.<br />As I wrote once before, I remember dates.So it is that I recall some important events that happened in August in my life.<br /><br />Two years ago I wrote the GRE exam on August 1st. I rushed back to college immediately from Bangalore because Delphi was coming to campus on the 2nd.I remember walking bleary eyed past the ad-block as I saw my friends ,dressed smartly, rush towards A-2 hall.I remember being congratulated for what then seemed like a great score.Next thing I saw was the written test paper- had lots of microprocessors and programming in it and so that was the end for me:)).<br />However it was not the end for Pattu.The only mech guy who cleared the written,I can recall vividly,his face flushed, outside my room window,waking me up from my afternoon nap,saying: "Shriram mera ho gaya!!!" :-) There are few times in ones life that you really,and I mean <em>really </em>feel delighted at another's success, but life in college gave me numerous such occasions.<br /><br />There were more things that happened that month.On the 10th I wrote the TOEFL.On the 27th,Pawan and I got placed (but never joined the Tatas:). Infact I landed here on the 13th last year.Maybe August is a great month for me!<br /><br />But Pattu's story doesnt end there. Very soon after there was a report in the <em>ET</em> that Delphi filed for bankruptcy.There is no end to the fun it brought us at Pattu's expense.I kept the copy of the newspaper in Pawan's room, and whenever this pest would bother us as we were having some discussion of great import (generally of a nature too scandalous to be mentioned in a blog:), Pawan would point to that newspaper by the corner.Pattu the Pest would then slink away sheepishly ;)<br />Let me dedicate this post to Pattu-that pestilential creature who figures in most of the good times that I have had- and due to whom I gained so much and despite what am gaining now, realise all that am losing.shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-30196298927700709982007-07-23T20:42:00.000-05:002007-07-23T21:43:25.704-05:00Zipcodes and other matters of national importanceIts that time of the year again,when young men(women too before a feminist disapproves) with dreams in their eyes board flights to this land of 2% reduced fat milk and orange blossom honey.So naturally the question of my address came up, for hosting these new kids on the block.Incidentally, with several people of my college coming,it should be fun.But anyway while typing out my address the zip code caught my attention.<br />What a peculiar word- Zip code.<br />Instantly my fertile imagination began to conjure up appalling images of zips which open only with codes.What a cataclysm to befall the male bastion, I pondered.If zips were ever coded.Getting my cycle lock opened when its raining itself takes time, as I found out to my anguish a couple of days back.If nature ever puts you on notice, getting the....err..... zip( for once the author is short of words,and his alternatives all appear most inappropriate:) open in time can often be most challenging as most of you must definitely have found out a few times in your life.And imagine a three digit number lock on it, to compound matters.The prospect chills my bones to the very marrow.<br />And while we are at it let me digress and expound my views about the zip.A most versatile thing,the zip.Have any of you ever wondered why the zip was named the zip?Am sure you never have so I will proceed to elucidate my line of thought. Imagine trying to explain to a 4 year old boy what the zip is,without using the word zip.<br />The car <em>zipped</em> down the road. He <em>zipped</em> past in his cycle. Are these descriptions based on the the way the"<em>zip</em>" moves? Or indeed is the zip called zip because it goes "<em>zip-zip-zip</em>" when you pull it up or down?Does it indeed go "<em>zip</em>" or are we conditioned to hear it as zip because we named it <em>zip</em>?You see what I mean-I have run rings around you with this profound tautology.<br />Of course I with my infinite wisdom can define it purely as a mechanism with interlocking teeth moving on a blah blah blah....but the child wont be impressed and probably ask me if I have been eating locoweed.<br />I can hear cries of people in my mind already, shouting-<br /> <em>chaat</em>! (dismissive)<br /><em>chattttttttttt</em> !! (irritating)<br /><em>chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat</em> !!!( means if I could get your neck in my hands right now I would love to apply a sufficiently high moment so that torsional failure occurs:)<br />The last of these is typically reserved for me when I am in one of these moods. :-) One of my specialities and delights was to extract the above mentioned sentiment from perfectly nice people.Like Montmorency in 3 Men in a Boat, my day is never complete or satisfying if I don't do this to atleast one person.<br />By the way,the different contextual usages of the word chat is what distinguishes the NITTwit from his lesser brethren.But again if one is a nitwit by nature,you cant teach one to be a NITTwit.So I desist.<br />But to round up this matter of import-I finally found a solution that allowed me to breathe easy somewhat. I remember when I was a kid,if your..errr..zip wasn't properly zipped up,the concerned person used to be alerted that "his postbox is open".(I desist from talking anymore about this most wonderful metaphor)<br />And there you have it!! A perfectly close formed solution to our problem! Zip Codes...post boxes...the connection would be obvious even to morons!<br />For others motivated by this monograph,I would suggest that the word "pin code" as used in India might also yield interesting solutions upon introspection.That might be a rewarding line of thought.In fact if I could I would myself pursue it :)shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-40532025022959266302007-07-07T20:22:00.000-05:002007-07-07T21:11:32.859-05:00Idle ramblingsThis is being written as a comment to this-<br /><a href="http://a-mavericks-foghorn.blogspot.com/2007/07/of-nit-t-niit-and-it.html">http://a-mavericks-foghorn.blogspot.com/2007/07/of-nit-t-niit-and-it.html</a><br /><br />If you have finished reading <em>that </em>then you may proceed to read what I have to say.<br />I must say my friend had a perfectly acceptable explanation as to why he went about reading the same news item ,or rather different versions of the same news (should I use <em>new</em> as the singular of news??Very singular word -<em>news..</em>pun intended of course<em>..</em>How does this sound-sensational <em>new</em>,hot <em>new</em> etc..Anyway never mind!. He assures me its not because he is sitting jobless in summer at the very least(?)<br />The news item hardly surprised me-the branding of NITT as NIIT.Being the busy man that I am(!) I just laughed it off with typical sarcasm,but my friend here could not stand the perpetration of this outrage.After all a gold medal with NIIT inscribed on it is hardly worth the glister is it?:)<br />To continue-let me play <em>Devil's Advocate</em>.Let me try to explain that such errors are quite possible.It is all attributed to <em>The Printer's Devil </em>.(no relation to Devil's advocate,mind you)<br />To illustrate let me tell you a most instructive story.<br />Once upon a time,The German crown prince was in England for a visit.<br />The newspaper headline went- "German <em>crow</em> prince in London"<br />Understandably outraged,the Germans demanded an apology which was duly tendered by the newspaper the next day.It read:" We apologise for our error in the story of the German <em>clown</em> prince".<br />Well,need I say more?.The Germans didnt ask for another apology.<br />That was my point, and may your cup of woe brimmeth, if you didnt get what I meant!!<br />To talk of more random issues regarding NITT, I think its fated that the NITTwit will never get his due. Back home in Calcutta in the days of yore when I was a young boy having just secured admission to NITT/REC Trichy,I remember friends of my dad in his office asking "Chele kothai podche?"( as in where is your son studying)<br />My dad, with suitable pride in his voice would reply to which they would ask:"Oita kothai, Bangalore?"(is that in Bangalore?:) My dad would be suitably miffed,while my ever present sarcasm would make me laugh.<br />There you have it- the tragedy of it all, NITT being reduced to a no entity near Bangalore.The joke is on Bangalore more than on NITT -this for the benefit of those among my readers whose heads are virtually cathode ray tubes (and I always suspect Iblog to belong to that set:)<br />The incident I narrated has happened too many times to pay any attention to.But now for an interesting case.<br />At the end of 3rd sem perhaps,I was bankrupt.But worse-Pattu and Ashwini were also bankrupt-worst of all I was bankrupt because I had lent money to Somnath (the eternally poor:).<br />I asked my dad to send me a DD.My dad, with his customary pride, addressed it to NIT Trichy instead of REC Trichy despite my warnings.The inevitable happened-the DD reached home after I came home for my holidays.<br />With that anecdote,this proud NITTian takes leave of you.I thoroughly enjoyed myself, pulling lots of legs in this post.<br />On a more serious note-congrats to the guy joining PSU and saying no to 23lpa.You will go places !Dont you worry!shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-63095336278569046162007-07-07T20:18:00.000-05:002007-07-07T20:20:37.507-05:00Tagged !Rules:<br />1.Players start with 5 random facts about themselves.<br />2.Post these rules along with your 5 random facts.<br />3.Tag 3 other people and notify them that they have been tagged.<br /><br />Well, here goes 5 random facts about myself-<br /><br />1. When you talk to me,I often go off on a tangent, carried away by some word or phrase .This is at times irritating to people (though not to my best friends, I imagine:)For starters-when I was "tagged"-the first thought was Orkut, Gazzag,Zorpia, Jhoos and now this new thing called Tagged, which is spamming my inbox like crazy:-)<br /><br />2.I have got a great memory for people,places and events-I can recall with vivid details what I was doing, what we were eating, what each person said and so on.But no!I do not remember the difference between upmilling and downmilling,or the intimate(!) details of an engine lathe,or what is the pitch of an M10 screw/nut/stud/bolt ;)<br /><br />3. I love puns-especially of the raunchy kind.I love to play with words, and manufacture innuendos out of the most commonplace statements.A particularly well documented habit ,no more on this!!<br /><br />4.I love food and eating-and can go to great lengths for that.It has been said (rather unkindly by Somnath,I should add) that I never say no to food.<br /><br />5.I am a nice guy!!! (Yes, really...:)))<br /><br />I tag-Maverick,Lassie,Ranjivshriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-72138577984297827712007-06-04T21:23:00.000-05:002007-06-05T16:21:41.250-05:00The finer points of American lifeThe past ten months or so, my writings have mostly dealt with nostalgia, depression, and occasionally,some cheerful things like entropy (only <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">mech</span> engineers need try to understand how entropy can be cheerful,of all things.In fact,if you think my senses are isotropically <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">atrophying</span>,you are probably right:-)That atrocious sentence is just a taste of things to come in my future posts.<br />But you will live through this one all right.For am going to write about the things that I find quite admirable here, something that I should have done quite a while ago.<br /><font style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Karmanya</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">vadhikaraste</span>, ma <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">faleshu</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">kadach</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">na</span>. </font>Perhaps the essence of The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Gita</span>. And yet, I comprehend those lines only after coming here,in a capitalistic country,ironically.Nothing exemplifies what I say better than exam/submission time. Americans work diligently and come what may, they wont pull the typical Indian stunt of a <font style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">nightout</span>.</font>Once night falls, they will leave at that point,irrespective of how they have done. The code may or may not run.The plots might be wrong.The proof may be awful.But they wont go on.They start work early and finish on time. In contrast Indians, typically will let the grass grow under their feet first.Once enough has grown,they will then toil night and day, colonise the computer lab, all the while keeping their eye fixed on what they want,namely the output/grade.Hardly the followers of The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Gita</span>, are we? The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">American's</span> careless indifference to grades and results is something that I admire. Of course I also understand that in India now we cant survive without being result oriented.Its the way we are brought up, and incidentally most last minute <span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">desi</span> </span>submissions often turn out better than the others. In India academic success is almost the only way to make a career.Yes, there are very successful people in other careers too,but lets not kid ourselves and be romantic. For every successful cartoonist, sportsman, artist, or people like that, there are thousands who have fallen by the way side. In the U.S.A, you can make your living as a carpenter or plumber, and live comfortably. Also, the fact that we have come so far for an education means that we obviously are more driven to succeed.So if seen that way, perhaps our behaviour can be rationalised.<br />However no rationalisation can excuse unethical behaviour,of the kind that am about to describe.<br />The true meaning of honour and ethics too I discovered after coming here. There is a code of honour that we sign on every assignment and I used to do that with typical cynicism .However during exams I found there were no invigilators!We were just left to ourselves !It was understood, and taken for granted, that nobody would resort to unfair means. To repose such trust made me feel rather ashamed of my earlier cynicism. And there were a few infamous instances that I came to hear about, in classes, with a predominantly Indian population.Assignments were copied <span style="font-style: italic;">en <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">masse</span> </span>, and instructors had to take drastic measures.In one of my courses, two <span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">desis</span></span> had suspiciously similar(correct) answers to a crucial problem, one that had felled the best. The professor called them and asked about it,and these two fed him a cock and bull story.However their story was taken at face value,which again told me something.It is so easy to take advantage of this trust,and I really find it most disgusting when people do that. Not everyone does it , only some do, but almost everyone who does seems to be Asian, which <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">doesnt</span> do us or our country any favours. But it is a wonderful thing <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">isn't</span> it, to pass the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">responsibility</span> onto you , and assuming that you will act ethically. Such a change from back home!shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-11104306559625637972007-05-21T13:22:00.000-05:002007-05-21T15:55:59.292-05:00The clock chimes the hour....I am near New York City.<br />Today is my birthday.<br /> And if you think that alone is enough to have a blast, you are as wrong as wrong could be.For am alone, feeling desolate and empty.<br />Nobody around to talk to even. Solitude today has driven me mad. And its nobody's fault, not even mine.<br />I thought I would go alone to a museum. But that doesnt appeal to me. There are 2 Tamil movies that I could watch.But that doesnt sound good either. So here am, still sitting -the bus has gone even as I speak. This has surely been my worst birthday ever- forgotten by people around and best forgotten by my own self.<br />How frail the mind of man, and how potent the curse of solitude!!I find it so stifling, to listen to the reverberations of my own thoughts jangling in disharmony.Perhaps its time I learn to live with myself. To accept that times like this are here to stay.<br />And yet another year ticks by my life.I turn 25..I find it amusing to think of class 6 history lessons.Of Aryans and their life expectancy of a 100 years. Of the first 25 years of life known as <em>Brahmacharya. </em>Never mind that I have been a far from ideal <em>brahmachari</em> (except in the things which matter, that is :-) I find it amazing that the feelings on the age scale are so logarithmic. Turning 25 feels so different from turning 20. I was excited about 20, because it meant more freedom but as you inch along you dont feel so good about 25. I think its because you realise that the course of your life is well set and there is no more a bewildering array of possibilities or wonder about the future anymore. There can be minor changes but you cant really surprise yourself, can you, a few years from now? That way there is a sort of helplessness about it now whereas at 20 you felt you could do anything and you were the master of your fate. And yet, how many times in the past have I found myself saying: "If only time would pass by, and I could be transported into the future, when the uncertainties have blown over and things have settled.."<br />Such are the foibles of the mind and the heart. I want my tomorrow today and tomorrow I will want my yesterday.<br />I believe I am not unique in my feelings. Perhaps there are others like me who feel the way I do,a vague discontent with life for no discernible reason.<br />Despite my depressing mood, I must thank all friends of mine who went out of their way for me.In particular, Pawan and Malavika- you are killing me with curiosity, and Preetha<em>di -</em> I am really touched by your invitation.Thank you so much for making me feel wanted.<br />As I see the numbers on the wheel of life spinning by,I wish for myself and my friends that our lives transcend the mundane and become meaningful and extraordinary.shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-71739232150573359422007-04-30T16:40:00.000-05:002007-04-30T19:07:47.457-05:00I wish......I wish I could<br /><br />Go and eat in the familiar old mess again,bad food eaten with great friends, and never mind the taste!<br /><br />Skip breakfast and have 2 <em>vadas </em>and a tea at 10.10 in the <em>Snacky...</em><br /><br />I could go to the <em>Pearl Coffee</em> shop at night , eat biscuits and feed the styrofoam cups to the cows again.<br /><br />Order a glass of papaya juice for Rs. 6.00 at the <em>Juicy</em>, and laze around one hot afternoon after class,while quibbling with Pawan or Pattu or Vicky over who will pay..<br /><br />I could be awakened by the sounds of Gyani's speaker blaring out Marilyn Manson's "This is the new shit"..<br /><br />I could feel the wind in my face as I pedal uphill from the <em>Bank</em> to <em>Octa</em>...<br /><br />I could get wet in the rain on <em>Topaz</em> terrace again,without a thought for tomorrow...<br /><br />It took me several hours to walk through the corridor to my room again,talking to people on the way...<br /><br />Go to <em>Tabs</em> or <em>Meridian</em> and eat like there is no tomorrow...<br /><br />Never go single on a bicycle again....<br /><br />Sit in class and sleep with my head lolling,oblivious to the teacher watching...<br /><br />Play an extravagant backhand slice on the TT board again, the night before a semester exam...<br /><br />Smell the stink of clothes soaked too long in the detergent...<br /><br />Turn my room inside out after someone mistook a lizard for a scorpion...<br /><br />See "all kinds" of movies with 10 people in a room,and bend double laughing at the comments...<br /><br />Sit on the slab outside my room reflecting and dreaming about the wonderful life ahead...<br /><br />Feel the Coke burn my eyes, the egg yolk running down my hair and the stinging kicks on wet denim, awarded for an 'achievement'...<br /><br />Spend hours on the game of one upmanship with Pawan-creating absolute groaner puns...<br /><br />Talk endlessly with Pawan and Pattu about the woman of my dreams who will bowl me over...<br /><br />These are those small things that I wish for, the simple pleasures of life which I never thought twice about. A chance conversation with Vicky brought it all out. Its nearing a year since hostel life ended, so my mind inevitably keeps going back and thinking-What was I doing this day last year. I shall write one more post in May on the year that was and on so much that has happened since.shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-52858355300850628232007-03-31T20:21:00.000-05:002007-03-31T21:20:06.684-05:00When the boot is on the other foot....Last week I saw "The Party", a 1968 Peter Sellers comedy.Sellers plays an Indian called Hrundy Bakshi, a film extra who is invited by mistake to a big Hollywood party instead of being fired. Sellers looks incredibly Indian and speaks with a very convincing accent too.<br />I sat in horror for the first half an hour, feeling completely outraged by what was happening onscreen. It was a horrible caricature of Indians in general and I felt it particularly distasteful.<br />In fact I think a movie like that wouldnt get away scot free today, without charges of racism surfacing.<br />And one of my good freinds here pointed out that Hindi movies are no different. And I agree with her.I have lost count of the number of times I have seen Tamilians(South Indians) being stereotyped in a highly ridiculous manner( esp the Late Mahmood).And nobody talks like that !!!<br />Of course having lived in a hostel with people from all over India,I do know none is spared-Bongs,Mallus,Punjabis,Biharis,Gultis et al-you name it!!<br />But I never found that as offensive or irritating, perhaps because they are Indians too (and also because everyone gives as good as they get!:-)<br />Maybe its my ego being hurt at the slight from a foriegner.Or I have become more sensitive about these issues after leaving India.<br />Infact that reminds me of another thing-the vision that people here have about India being an 'exotic' land of snake charmers and the like.And one of the professors actually told my room mate some drivel about Calcutta being a city with lots of snake charmers!!Now thats new!!<br />The general knowledge in this part of the world is practically non existent-but wait- I wont start on that now-lets save that for later.<br />When I went to the local Mall here I saw an "Indian shop".It sold things like wooden snakes and, hold your breath, "Hemchampa Agarbathee" and the humble old "Mooda"(now extinct bamboo stools:-)Well, thats the vision that they have of India!!<br />Coming back to what I was saying, whatever the reason, I do realise now that its not much fun when you are at the wrong end of the joke. I must be honest enough to admit that I would never have thought so much had the lead character been of some other nationality.<br />In retrospect I am glad that I saw that movie. Sometimes you need to be on the other side to get a better perspective.<br />It has made sure that next time I start a joke about that Sardarji, I will think twice.<br />(As an after thought,I must say Sellers is a brilliant actor)shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30185246.post-4012989371997366372007-03-02T12:31:00.000-06:002007-03-02T12:42:03.661-06:00Read for yourselfIt makes me feel sick, but being a man I suppose I have to face up too-to the realities that abound. I find it shameful that not passing lewd comments, or misbehaving with women in public, is by itself now a virtue.<br /><a href="http://www.anniezaidi.com/2006/03/streets-stories-strategies.html">http://www.anniezaidi.com/2006/03/streets-stories-strategies.html</a><br />No more words,they dont help at all.shriramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08954628450462218591noreply@blogger.com2